


There is Just One Thing I Need

by accordingtomel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Christmas, Cuddling & Snuggling, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, M/M, Pining, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 13:49:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2775320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accordingtomel/pseuds/accordingtomel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a general rule, Tyler Hoechlin doesn’t believe in the concept of love at first sight. It’s not that he’s opposed to it in theory -- it’s a sweet idea, and he’s kind of a self-professed romantic at the end of the day. But the whole basis for it is rooted in shallow logic that essentially ignores the very definition of “love,” or at the very least, diminishes its meaning.</p><p>So, he stands by that conviction, and continues to do so.</p><p>That is, until the day he meets Dylan O’Brien. And suddenly -- like the idea he’s rejected for so long -- Tyler finds his entire world being turned upside down.</p><p>---</p><p>OR, the one where Tyler and Dylan share a lot of things -- beds, clothes, and possibly even love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There is Just One Thing I Need

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [12 Days of Sterek](http://12daysofsterek.tumblr.com/) fest. I'd had amazing visions of this being nice and short, around 5k, but instead it spiraled into this monster.
> 
> I've taken a few liberties and fudged slightly with the timeline, in order to serve my own purposes. So instead of moving in together and starting to film season 1 of Teen Wolf in November, 2010, I've had them move in and start filming season 1 at the beginning-ish of October. This fic is essentially self-indulgent fluff, with a brief smattering of angst for good measure. Also, bed sharing is my favourite thing in the entire world and I kind of have this headcanon that they'd like sharing a bed, so I ran with that. Excessively so. Sorry, not sorry :).
> 
> Huge thanks to my amazing friend and beta, Hez, who patiently waited while I finished this at the very last minute, then quickly betaed the whole thing for me in one weekend. Thanks darling, you're the best! ♥ Any remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> Any resemblance to real life events is purely good luck on my part -- minus the stuff I've taken directly from stories they've told -- and is all in good fun. Thanks for reading!

As a general rule, Tyler Hoechlin doesn’t believe in the concept of love at first sight. It’s not that he’s opposed to it in theory -- it’s a sweet idea, and he’s kind of a self-professed romantic at the end of the day. But the whole basis for it is rooted in shallow logic that essentially ignores the very definition of “love,” or at the very least, diminishes its meaning.

So, he stands by that conviction, and continues to do so.

That is, until the day he meets Dylan O’Brien. And suddenly -- like the idea he’s rejected for so long -- Tyler finds his entire world being turned upside down.

~*~

The first time they meet is after Tyler’s second audition for Derek Hale. He’s seen several people come and go, but Dylan is the only one he’s had any desire to actually talk to.

Dylan is sort of a walking contradiction, a mix of shy nerves, boundless energy, and utter confidence mingled into one singular form. In one breath he moves from self-doubt to self-assurance back to self-doubt again, his body mirroring those shifts, like it never quite knows what to do from one moment to the next. But Dylan’s eyes are warm, smile gentle, hands constantly moving as he talks -- and Tyler immediately finds him helplessly endearing.

“Who did you read for?” Tyler asks after they’ve introduced themselves. Dylan is sitting two chairs to the left of him, though sitting might not be the right choice of word. More like vibrating out of his seat, two chairs to the left.

“I read for Stiles Stilinski, but they asked me if I wanted to read for anyone else. Not sure what that means yet, but I guess I’ll know soon enough. How about you?”

“Derek Hale.”

“Ooh yeah, I could see that.” Dylan smiles at him, and Tyler inexplicably feels warm all over, surprised that he’s even familiar enough with the other characters to know who Tyler’s talking about.

“So, how long have you been acting?” he asks, shifting in his seat so he’s facing Dylan properly.

“Oh, god. Uh, well, I haven’t ever actually acted? Unless you count making YouTube videos acting. Which I don’t.”

“Hey, it’s never too late to start. Besides, if they wanted you to audition for other characters too, it must mean they liked something about you, right?”

“Or they thought I was so bad that they figured maybe there was some random role they could give me when they cast someone else as Stiles.”

Tyler shakes his head, feels himself smile. “Nah, I doubt it. I bet you were amazing,” he says, finds himself believing it, despite knowing next to nothing about this person sitting beside him.

“Well, that makes one of us. But thanks for the confidence boost.” Dylan grins, knee bouncing up and down like a nervous tick. Tyler feels the sudden urge to place a hand on Dylan’s knee to still the movement, but he ignores it.

Talking with Dylan ends up being one of the easiest things he’s ever done. They bond over a shared love of movies, baseball, dogs, and food. Minutes pass away into hours, and after a while Tyler completely forgets that they’re hanging out at an audition, of all places. Everything about Dylan is fascinating to him, and he finds himself drawn to him in a way he’s never felt to anyone else before.

At some point, another actor also named Tyler joins them, and they take a picture, the three of them. It feels significant somehow, but Tyler can’t pinpoint why.

The important part, though, is that he’s made a new friend in Dylan, and they exchange numbers with the intent to stay in touch, even if neither of them end up getting cast in the roles they auditioned for. So, all in all, Tyler still counts the day as a resounding success.

~*~

(Years later, when he starts recounting this story in public and to fans at conventions, Tyler will remember that there were other people there besides Dylan. Occasionally he even recalls what someone else said to him at some point during that afternoon. But mostly when he thinks of that first meeting, he thinks about Dylan. And if anyone notices the fond little smile that inevitably finds its way onto his face every time he talks about it, well... no one mentions it to him.)

~*~

Much to his surprise, Dylan actually texts Tyler a few days following the audition.

It isn’t much, just a quick hello, but it still makes Tyler happy. Even if nothing else comes from the audition, he’s grateful that he at least made a new friend. He’s thought about Dylan on and off over the last few days, but he had no idea if Dylan had done the same. He supposes he knows now, though.

He sends a quick text back, and silently prays for baseball season to hurry up and arrive so they can go see a game together.

~*~

When Tyler finds out about the part on Teen Wolf, the first thing he does is call his brother, Tanner, followed by his mother, who insists that they need to go out somewhere to celebrate. A couple hours later, he finds himself at the Cheesecake Factory -- Tyler’s choice -- where he is simultaneously ribbed and congratulated by his parents and siblings on the new role.

It’s not like it’s his first role, but his family loves to celebrate everyone’s accomplishments, no matter how big or small they may be. Also, now he knows he’ll have a steady income for at least a year, hopefully more, if things go well, which is something to celebrate all on its own.

It isn’t until later on that evening, when he gets home with a full stomach and a carry-out bag full of leftovers, that Tyler thinks to check his text messages. Sure enough, he’s received a few texts from Dylan. They’ve actually been talking quite a lot over the past two weeks, but Tyler hasn’t seen him since the first day they met.

He swipes his thumb across the screen to unlock the phone, flops down on the couch as he reads.

**From: Dylan O. (8:22 pm)**  
 _OMG, I got the part of Stiles. Can’t believe it! I’m so pumped._

**From: Dylan O. (8:26 pm)**  
 _I may or may not have started jumping up and down and screaming. I think I scared my family._

**From: Dylan O. (8:31 pm)**  
 _Posey just texted to say that he got the part of Scott. How amazing is that?_

**From: Dylan O.(8:45 pm)**  
 _Also, I hope you got the part too, otherwise I’m going to feel like an ass._

Tyler smiles down at his phone like the loser he is, grateful that he didn’t check his messages earlier in the night where there would have been witnesses, and types back a quick response.

**From: Tyler (10:04 pm)**  
 _Sorry, was out celebrating with my family. I’m officially the new Derek Hale. Guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the near future. Congrats to you, too. This is going to be awesome! Also, you’re not an ass._

He smiles to himself, looking forward to starting work even more now that he knows Dylan got the role too.

~*~

Once they get word that Teen Wolf has officially been picked up, Tyler and the rest of the cast and crew move out to Atlanta, Georgia to begin shooting the first season.

Much to Tyler’s delight, it’s decided that he’ll be renting an apartment with Dylan and Tyler Posey throughout the duration of filming. It’ll be good for bonding, as well as bringing a better dynamic to their characters on-screen. Tyler also suspects their house is going to become the hub for parties and general cast-related shenanigans throughout, which he’s more than fine with.

They all move down at the beginning of October. And while it’s sad to have to say goodbye to his family and friends back home for so long, Tyler has a feeling that some awesome things are on the horizon for him in the near future.

~*~

Living with Dylan and Posey is actually a lot of fun. With respect to the other cast members, Tyler immediately bonds with Colton. He’s known Holland for years and loves her like a sister, and Crystal is one of the sweetest people he’s ever met. They actually all get along exceptionally well, and within a couple of weeks, it feels like they’ve all known each other for years instead of just a couple months. Posey and Dylan like to tease Hoechlin about being an old man in comparison to them, especially when Tyler insists on getting to bed at a reasonable time and keeping up with the dirty dishes and laundry. But for the most part, Tyler barely notices the age difference between them at all.

One evening, about two and a half weeks into filming, Tyler finds himself staring up at his ceiling, unable to sleep. He’d had a long and gruelling day of filming and despite retiring to bed particularly early (for him, anyway), sleep is currently eluding him.

He’s contemplating just getting up and maybe working out, or possibly even jerking off, when he hears a soft knock on his door.

“Yeah?”

The door pushes open, Dylan standing in the doorway, wearing a blue t-shirt and grey sweats.

“Hey, you still awake?”

“Yeah. Having a hard time falling asleep. What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t sleep either.”

Tyler nods, sits up and reaches for the lamp beside the bed, flicking it on and gesturing for Dylan to come inside.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be a pain in the ass or anything,” Dylan says, even as he makes his way across the room. “Actually, I don’t really know what I was thinking. Just that maybe you’d still be up?”

“It’s fine, Dyl. You wanna watch something?”

Dylan smiles, perches on the end of the bed as Tyler rummages around underneath it in a vain attempt to locate his laptop.

“Yeah, sure. What’ve you got?”

“I don’t know, pretty much anything on Hulu, I guess?”

It’s a disastrous mess under the bed (he’ll have to do something about that later; cleaning does not equal shoving everything out of sight, his mom would be appalled), but he finally finds the stupid thing.

“What are you in the mood for?”

“I don’t know, something good.” Dylan snorts at that, and Tyler feels himself smirking. “What about Breaking Bad?”

Dylan shrugs. “Sure, I guess. I’ve never seen it.”

“Oh my God. You’ve never seen Breaking Bad?”

“No. I’ve been meaning to, just haven’t gotten around to it.”

“But it’s so amazing. Okay, well that decides it then.”

Dylan rolls his eyes, but smiles fondly at him anyway, so Tyler figures it’s a win. He hesitates for a second before shifting over in the bed and patting the spot beside him. Dylan raises his eyebrows at Tyler silently, but doesn’t put up any protest. The bed is a twin, barely large enough for one person, so when Dylan settles in, he’s pretty much pressed up right against Tyler’s side from their shoulders down to their hips. It should probably feel awkward, but strangely, it doesn’t. It only takes Tyler a moment to queue up the first season on his laptop, and he settles it on his legs, angling the screen so they can both see properly.

They make it through almost two episodes before Dylan’s breathing evens out and his head lolls against Tyler’s shoulder. About halfway through the third episode, Tyler feels himself drift off too, still pressed warmly against Dylan’s side.

The next morning when he wakes up, Dylan’s gone, but Tyler notices that his laptop has been put away, and there’s a blanket draped over him. It makes him feel warm inside.

~*~

“Hey, can I borrow a t-shirt?”

Tyler glances up at Dylan from behind his coffee mug, notes that he’s shirtless, and tries not to choke as he makes his way into the kitchen. “Um?”

“I sort of ran out of clean clothes?”

“You know we have a washing machine, right?”

Dylan runs a hand over his head, embarrassed little smile forming on his lips. Tyler makes a valiant attempt to keep his gaze above the shoulders. “Yeah, uh, I sort of forgot to do it.”

It sounds more like a question than a statement.

“So you want to dirty up all my clothes too?”

“Hey, trust me buddy, if there’s anyone in this house who could afford to walk around shirtless, it’s you.”

Tyler feels his face heating up and hopes that Dylan will attribute it to the coffee instead of his comment. Unfortunately...

“Are you blushing because I called you hot?”

Tyler feels himself splutter before he chokes out, “No!”

“Wow, that’s actually pretty adorable.”

“Yeah, well... so are you.”

The words haven’t even left his mouth before he’s literally cringing. Jesus fucking Christ, that’s not even remotely in the realm of what he wanted to say. It takes everything in him to stave off a literal facepalm to hide his own shame. But Dylan’s grin is radiant and gleeful, and if Tyler isn’t mistaken, there’s a faint tint of pink on his cheeks as well.

“Oh my god, this is legitimately one of the best conversations we’ve ever had.”

Tyler stares down at the floor, hoping and praying that it will open up and swallow him whole.

Dylan’s still staring at him when he looks up though, and he remembers then that he’s probably waiting for an actual response still. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, borrow a shirt and let me finish my coffee in peace,” he manages to choke out.

“Thank you so much!” Dylan bounces on the heels of his feet for a moment, beaming. “You’re the best, Hoech.”

Tyler absolutely does not stare at Dylan’s ass as he walks out of the room, but he does thunk his head against the kitchen table a few times for good measure.

~*~

The next time it happens, the bed sharing is slightly less accidental, though no more deliberate.

It’s been just over a week since Dylan fell asleep beside Tyler in his bed. They haven’t discussed it in any way, just carried on as if nothing had happened at all. Probably because it’s only a thing in Tyler’s head, and he should move on from it as soon as possible.

“Hey, what’s up?” Posey asks, as he and Dylan come into the apartment one evening after filming. He’d be done a couple hours earlier and decided to use the opportunity to have a quick workout and shower.

“Not much. Just started making dinner about ten minutes ago.” Tyler gestures behind him to the stove, where vegetables are cooking on low in a frying pan.

“Oh, shit. Colton and Holland just texted to see if we wanted to go out.”

“Sounds fun, but I think I’m going to sit this one out,” Tyler says, turning back to the stove to stir the vegetables and check on the rice. “It’s too tempting to ruin my diet when I’m out with you guys.”

“That sucks, but I get it,” Posey says. He turns to Dylan. “Gotta shower and change, then we can go.”

Dylan makes his way into the kitchen as Posey disappears down the hall, jumps up on the counter, and looks over at the stove. “So, what are you making?”

“Chicken stir-fry.”

“It smells so good. I’m kind of a terrible cook, so I mostly just make Kraft dinner and grilled cheese.”

Tyler casts him a sidelong glance, adding the actual chicken to the pan. “I didn’t want to bring it up, but now that you mention it…”

“Asshole. Shut up.”

Tyler grins, and Dylan rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling too. And even though it’s only been a few weeks, he already never wants this to end.

***

Tyler’s finished cooking dinner and has thrown most of the dirty dishes into the dishwasher by the time Posey gets out of the shower.

“Hey, you ready dude?” he asks as he passes by the kitchen, where Dylan is still hanging out.

“Actually, I think maybe I’m going to stay in after all. It was a long day and I’m kind of almost ready for bed.”

“Really? But what about dinner.”

“Hoechlin made food.” He hikes a thumb in Tyler’s general direction. “I’m sure he’ll share with me... right?”

Tyler shrugs, even though they all know he will. “I made enough for the three of us, so yeah.”

“See? There you go, all good.”

Posey’s eyes dart back and forth between them for a moment, like he’s sizing them up, trying to figure something out, before shrugging.

“All right, well have fun. I’ll see you guys later.”

And then he’s gone, just like that, leaving Dylan and Tyler alone.

***

After eating dinner and cleaning up the kitchen, they end up on the couch, watching some random 80’s movie that Dylan found on TV. But by about halfway through, neither one is watching any more.

“Wow, this movie sucks,” Dylan says, throwing a piece of popcorn at the screen.

“It needs more Burt Reynolds,” Tyler agrees.

Dylan snorts and bodily turns to face Tyler. “Every movie needs more Burt Reynolds. You wanna watch Breaking Bad instead?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“We have to watch it on your laptop don’t we?”

Tyler nods, stands to go retrieve said laptop, and only falters when he realizes that Dylan’s actually following him into his room. He pauses and looks over his shoulder with raised eyebrows.

“Why are you coming with me?”

“We don’t have an HDMI cord to hook your laptop up to the TV, and I don’t want to stay on that crappy couch.”

“So we’re going to just watch it in my room?”

Dylan grins, reaching over to pat Tyler on the back. “Now you’re getting it.”

***

Some time in the early morning hours, Tyler wakes up to what sounds suspiciously like the click of a camera. The last thing he remembers was watching Breaking Bad with Dylan half asleep on his shoulder. It was nice. Right now, Tyler’s turned into the wall, vaguely recalls someone taking his laptop and telling him to go back to sleep some time late last night. He can still feel Dylan at his back, though, so he’s not sure what’s going on. He jerks, about to turn around, when he feels a hand rest on his arm.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?” Dylan says quietly, sounding oddly sheepish.

“What’re you doing?” Tyler asks, voice still heavy with sleep.

“Taking a picture of us?”

“Sleeping?”

“Yeah. Well, you were sleeping anyway.”

Tyler isn’t exactly sure what to say, how to process this information, especially since his brain keeps getting stuck on the fact that Dylan’s taking pictures of them sleeping together on his phone.

“Sorry?”

“You’re weird,” Tyler says when he gets his bearings back. He tries to keep any obvious affection out of his voice, because he shouldn’t find Dylan taking pictures of them sharing a bed cute. Since it’s very much not. And yet, here he is, doing just that anyway.

“So are you. You just hide it better.”

“Yeah, true.” And Tyler is really glad right now that he’s still facing the wall instead of Dylan, because he’s too tired to hold back the smirk that decides to make an appearance against his will.

Dylan’s silent for a couple minutes, just breathing in the space beside Tyler. They’re not physically touching, but Tyler can feel the heat from Dylan’s body, and it’s almost like he can sense the rise and fall of his back against Tyler’s own. It’s comforting in a way that should maybe worry Tyler more than it does.

“I can leave, if you want?” Dylan asks finally, though he doesn’t sound like he particularly wants to.

“No, it’s okay. You can stay. Unless you keep blabbing, then I might shove you out of the bed.”

Dylan huffs out a soft laugh, murmurs, “‘Kay.”

But when he makes no attempt to get out of bed, and in fact, seems to settle further under the covers, Tyler decides that sleep is the preferable option to overanalyzing his life choices, and goes back to that instead.

~*~

Three days later, Tyler comes home from a late night shoot to find Dylan already curled up in his bed. Tyler stands there for a moment, the light from the hall bathing the room in a sliver of warm light that stretches partially across his bed, watching Dylan sleep. He looks so much younger like this. Soft and gentle and calm, both like and unlike an awake and alert Dylan. It unfurls something warm in Tyler’s chest, briefly, and he forces himself to look away.

There’s no reason why Tyler couldn’t just go sleep in Dylan’s bed instead. In fact, it would be a much smarter plan, if he’s being honest with himself. This is not something he should be getting used to. He can’t afford to get too attached to Dylan, especially when the future of Teen Wolf is still so up in the air. Plus, you know, feelings. Which may or may not already be developing on Tyler’s end, despite his best efforts to keep things strictly professional.

He should go sleep somewhere else. Dylan’s bed. The couch. Even the floor. Hell, if he could come up with a legitimate excuse to bunk with Posey, it would still be a better choice than spending another night in his too small bed with Dylan. But he’s exhausted, and Dylan looks so soft and warm and inviting. So, before Tyler can think too much about what he’s doing, he strips down to his boxers, throws on a t-shirt, and climbs into the bed.

Just as Tyler’s head is hitting the pillow, he hears a soft, “Hey.” Tyler opens his eyes, but even in the darkness of the room, he can see that Dylan’s eyes are still closed.

“Don’t you have your own bed?” Tyler asks into the darkness.

It takes Dylan a second. “Yeah.”

“So why aren’t you sleeping there then?”

“‘Cause your bed’s way more comfy than mine.”

“Right.”

It’s not. Tyler knows it’s not. He’s been on Dylan’s bed before.

“Shhhh, I’m sleepin’ man.”

Then, a moment later, “Mmm, you’re warm.” And the next thing he knows, Dylan’s shifting closer, burying his face in Tyler’s neck and tangling their legs together like this is something they do all the time. He knows Dylan is still at least half asleep, but there’s a familiarity and comfort there that makes Tyler think he would’ve done it even if he weren’t mostly unconscious. Tyler hesitates a moment before placing a hand on Dylan’s wrist, curling his fingers gently around Dylan’s arm.

Tyler thinks, briefly, that this is starting to move from ‘potential problem’ to ‘actual serious problem’ at an alarming speed, but he’s asleep before the thought has the chance to take form.

~*~

Dylan steals another one of Tyler’s shirts.

Tyler doesn’t even realize it until they’re already on set, starting to get ready for the day.

“Is that my shirt?”

“Umm…”

“I’m going to take that as a ‘yes’.”

“Sorry, I just didn’t get a chance to do laundry again.”

“If laundry is that difficult for you, I could just throw some of your stuff in with mine.” He regrets the words before they’re even out of his mouth, but it’s too late to take it back now.

Especially when Dylan’s whole face lights up at that. “Would you?”

Of course he would. Because Tyler’s a huge sucker for Dylan, even though Dylan’s an adult and should damn well know how to do his own laundry by now.

“I’m not going to do all your laundry, though.”

“I know. But you’re still amazing anyway,” Dylan says, with such sincerity that it actually makes Tyler blush a little.

He does feel obligated to add on a little disclaimer. “However, I may start stealing your clothes if I’m washing them.”

Dylan waves a hand at him, smirking as he says, “That’s fine. You smell nice, so it’ll probably do good things for my clothes anyway.”

And then he’s being rushed off to wardrobe, leaving Tyler with a blush and a racing heart rate in his place. Dylan will definitely be the death of him, Tyler decides. If he makes it through filming this season without jumping him first, that is.

~*~

Over the next few weeks, the bed-sharing thing starts to become something of a habit. What had previously been only a few select instances which neither ever openly discussed turns into a deliberate, conscious choice that they do openly acknowledge. Once or twice in a two week period suddenly becomes four or five nights a week, and Tyler wonders when he lost all control of his life.

“So, you guys up for one more movie?” Posey asks, standing up and making his way over to the DVD player.

Holland yawns from her spot on the recliner. “You can, but I think I’m going to call it a night.”

They’d been given a rare night off from filming, and had immediately jumped on the opportunity to have a night of good food, good friends, and bonding over cheesy 80’s movies. (Plus, alcohol. Lots of alcohol. That Dylan and Posey had talked Tyler into purchasing for them. He’d tried to put up a fight -- they were underage, and it was irresponsible of him to buy it for them -- but one look at Dylan’s puppy dog eyes and any and all fight in him was completely gone. Thankfully, Dylan had yet to realize Tyler’s weakness for him, and he thanked God for small mercies, at least.)

“Yeah, sorry guys, but me too,” Colton agrees. He stretches from his spot on the floor, propped up against Holland’s legs.

“What are the sleeping arrangements?” Crystal asks, swirling the remnants of her beer in one hand and twirling a strand of hair in her other.

Posey pulls the DVD from the player and puts it in the case. “Uh, I guess you and Holland can take my bed, and I can sleep on the couch.”

“What about me? At least tell me you have a sleeping bag for me to use on the floor,” Colton says.

“Nah, it’s okay bro, you can sleep in my bed. I’ll just bunk with Hoechlin.”

Everyone turns to look at Dylan, except for Posey, who’s looking at Tyler instead.

“What?” Dylan says.

“You didn’t even ask him,” Holland points out.

“It’s fine. We share all the time.”

“Oh, really?”

Posey nods, even though the question wasn’t directed at him, flopping back down on the couch. “They do. I even caught them snuggling once.”

“You did not!” Dylan says, but Tyler can already see the blush forming on his face, knows that it’s mirroring his own.

Crystal and Holland are grinning like they’ve just been told the juiciest gossip ever, and it suddenly makes Tyler nervous.

“Aww, that’s so adorable,” Crystal says.

Colton snorts. “You sure cuddling is all you guys do?”

“Hey, we don’t need to answer to you,” Dylan says, standing up and making his way towards Tyler, face still red but with determination in his eyes. “Come on, Hoech, let’s go.”

And then Dylan is grabbing onto his hand, pulling him up from the couch, and Tyler allows himself to be willfully dragged out of the room to whistles and catcalls.

They get ready for bed in relative silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. Tyler feels like they’re not exactly being very hospitable hosts, and says as much, but Dylan just waves him off.

“Nah, they’ll be fine. Posey can get his own blankets for the couch.” Dylan pulls back the covers and climbs into bed. “You want to sleep by the wall tonight?”

“No, you can have it.”

“Do you think it’s weird?” Dylan asks, once they’ve both settled into bed and the lights are off.

“What?”

“That we share a bed all the time?”

Tyler thinks about it. “To be fair, you’re usually the one who comes barging in here and takes over half of my bed.”

“Oh, ha ha, you’re hilarious.”

Tyler grins, and even in the dark, he can _hear_ Dylan’s begrudging smile.

“But seriously?” he continues.

In some ways, Tyler wonders if it is weird. Or, maybe not weird so much as a terrible life choice on Tyler’s part, especially given his steadily developing feelings for Dylan, which he’s given up on even ignoring at this point. But the fact of the matter is that he likes having Dylan in his bed. He likes falling asleep to the sound of his soft breathing and waking up to Dylan’s warm body pressed up against his own. Tyler just loves being around Dylan in any capacity that he can. Talking to him, sitting next to him, laughing with him, playing pranks on him, touching him. Tyler has no idea how Dylan feels about him, but he knows that Dylan wouldn’t keep joining him in bed if he didn’t want to be there. So is it weird? Maybe. But it works for them, and in the end, that’s all that matters to him.

“No, I don’t think so,” Tyler says eventually. “As long as we’re cool with it, that’s all that’s important.”

“Yeah, okay. I agree with you too,” Dylan says.

And when Tyler wakes up in the middle of the night, only to find his left arm is completely numb from where Dylan was sleeping on him, he maybe smiles a little too much and curls back into Dylan without another thought.

~*~

Tyler finds that over the past month or so, he and Dylan have started sharing clothes so often, that sometimes he doesn’t even remember which shirt is his and which is Dylan’s. Most of the time he just grabs whatever’s around that’s clean and throws it on without thinking about it.

Today is one of those days. Except it isn’t until he’s running for the car in the morning that he actually notices how tight the henley is that he’s wearing. He hopes no one will notice, but as per always, life just isn’t that kind to him.

“Hey Hoechlin, nice shirt,” Colton says, grinning at him mischievously when he arrives on set.

For some reason he feels oddly defensive about it. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing. Just looks a little tight on you. You been working out extra hard lately?”

“No.” Tyler glances down at what he’s wearing, knows that Colton will probably figure out what happened anyway, so there’s no point in denying it. “It’s Dylan’s shirt. I put it on by accident this morning.”

“Were you getting dressed in Dylan’s room too?”

Tyler frowns, doesn’t get the connection. “No, in my own.”

“Then why do you have Dylan’s clothes in your room? Or is there something you haven’t told me?” Colton wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at Tyler.

Tyler rolls his eyes, but he knows his face is heating up anyway. Damn it.

“Oh my God, keep your voice down. And no, there isn’t anything going on between me and Dylan. I just do some of his laundry sometimes and stuff gets mixed up on occasion.” It’s not the whole truth, but it’s close enough.

“Hey, I’m not judging,” Colton says, holding his hands up in what he must assume is a placating gesture. It looks more mocking to Tyler, but he’ll take what he can get from Colton. “I’m just saying… you guys seem to share a lot. That’s it.”

“But you’re not judging,” Tyler repeats, tone purposely skeptical.

“Nope, not even a little.”

Tyler sighs, but he can’t help laughing in spite of himself. Colton is ridiculous, but he’s a good friend. They part ways a few minutes later, each heading to their trailers, but Tyler does keep the conversation in his mind all day anyway. He knows he and Dylan grew really close, really quickly, but everyone around them seems to think they’re even closer than they actually are. Which makes Tyler wonder… are his coworkers reading way too much into their relationship, or are _he and Dylan_ actually the ones who are clueless and completely in denial about what’s going on between them?

~*~

Tyler can fall asleep pretty much anywhere. He’s always been able to. His mom often recounts the story of how he went missing from the backyard once when he was three, only to be found a couple hours later, sleeping on a pile of woodchips under the deck. It took Tyler until he graduated from high school for his mom to be able to tell the story without tearing up, but now that he’s significantly older, she can appreciate the humor in the situation.

He hasn’t fallen asleep in any outlandishly strange places for years. But what it does mean is that if Tyler is tired, he’ll sleep, regardless of where he is.

So, it isn’t out of the ordinary for Tyler to take cat naps at work, in between scenes, or during particularly gruelling night shoots. All he really needs is some place to stretch out (or sit against or curl into, really… he’s not all that particular about it). It also isn’t out of the ordinary for someone to take and post a picture of him online, or -- when they’re feeling particularly cruel -- to do something childish like tie his shoelaces together or put shaving cream on his hand and then tickle his face with a feather.

What he’s never experienced, though, is someone piling a bunch of weights on top of him. Which is what it feels like when he comes to one evening, after having taken a half hour nap in between filming.

Tyler grunts, tries to push the weight off of his lap as he struggles into a full seated position. (Also, he makes a mental note to himself about how sleeping halfway slumped down a wall is a good way to inflict some unpleasant lower back pain.)

It’s kind of dark in this corner of the set (hence why he chose it to being with), so he can’t really see much of anything. But it isn’t until Tyler hears a groan from the pile of weights on his lap that he realizes it’s not actually a pile of weights after all.

“What’re you doin’?”

“D?”

“Mmmm.”

Tyler’s eyebrows rise up on his forehead, even though Dylan isn’t even looking at him. “Why are you curled up in my lap?”

“Try’na sleep, but you’re making it hard.”

“On my lap?”

“S’better than the floor.”

Which, fair enough. He’s got a valid point. It’s just… not something they’ve ever done. And now that Tyler’s a little more alert and his eyes have started adjusting to the dim light, he’s realizing just how intimate this whole scene actually comes across. Dylan’s head is pillowed on Tyler’s lap -- basically right on top of his crotch -- and his arms are partially wrapped around Tyler’s knees and thighs from both sides. (And how did Dylan even arrange himself like this without waking Tyler in the first place? It’s one of life’s mysteries, he supposes.)

“Don’t we need to get back on set soon?” Tyler eventually asks.

“Soon-ish. Someone will come get us. Don’t worry.”

That’s kind of exactly what he’s worried about though. It’s not that he’s ashamed of anyone seeing him like this with Dylan. It’s just… Tyler’s a private person. He doesn’t like to advertise his personal life for the rest of the world to see. And this -- whatever is (or isn’t) happening between him and Dylan -- is something he’d like to keep for himself. At least for now.

“Go back to sleep, Hoech.”

Then again, who knows how many people have already seen them like this since they both drifted off. No hiding it now, he supposes.

“Yeah, okay. But it might help if you stopped talking.”

Dylan lets out a soft cackle, whole body shaking for a brief moment as the laugh travels through him. “Whatever. You love my talking.”

He does. So fucking much. But the words get caught in his throat, and he swallows around what he’d like to say.

Tyler responds, instead, by running his fingers through Dylan’s hair as he drifts back to sleep. Jesus Christ, he’s totally fucked. It isn’t even up for debate any more.

~*~

“Cut!” Tim Andrew calls out. He’s the director for the episode they’re currently filming. It’s the last one before they break for the Christmas holidays. “Tyler, you’re being too gentle. You need to actually shove him up against the wall.”

“But…” Tyler says, without finishing the sentence. He knows what’s required of him in the scene. He just can’t reconcile what he’s being asked to do versus the very real potential of accidentally hurting Dylan.

“No buts. You’re not going to hurt him. He’s not as fragile as he looks.”

“Hey!” Dylan cries, affronted.

Tyler frowns at Tim’s clear mind-reading abilities while Dylan glares at Tim from his position behind Tyler.

“I know you’re not fragile,” Tyler answers, still looking at Dylan. “But it still doesn’t mean I want to hurt you either.”

“Okay, let’s run the scene again,” Tim says, as if Tyler never even spoke to begin with.

He makes to move away from Dylan, but then he feels warm fingers curl around his wrist and pull him back in instead. Dylan leans in close enough that Tyler’s heart leaps in his chest for a moment, because holy shit, what is he doing? It’s only at the last moment that Dylan’s face veers away from Tyler’s (who definitely was not holding his breath, no sir) and aims for his ear instead.

The words, as much as the heat of Dylan’s breath ghosting across Tyler’s ear, sends a full body shiver through him. 

“Don’t worry, Hoechlin. I like it rough,” he rasps, smirking as he moves away from Tyler and returns to his mark as if he wasn’t just all up in Tyler’s personal space like he belonged there.

Tyler swallows thickly and tries to will down the blush that’s threatening to overcome him. It doesn’t help when he glances over at Dylan and sees him winking at him. Jesus Christ. He closes his eyes, takes a couple deep breaths, tries to center himself instead, if he has any hope of finishing this scene today. He’s not sure how many more times he can press Dylan up against a wall without his body getting its own ideas about how he should be reacting to all of this.

This time, when he’s supposed to grab Dylan -- _Stiles_ \-- and shove him up against a wall, he does exactly that. Dylan doesn’t react, but his eyes are dancing with mirth, and Tyler finds himself unable to look away. It’s no different from every other time they’ve filmed this scene so far, except for the fact that suddenly Tyler notices _everything_ about Dylan. The golden flecks in his beautiful honey-colored eyes, the moles dotting his face that Tyler would very much like to trace with his tongue… and then his gaze is dropping to Dylan’s mouth, because fuck does he have a devastating mouth. His lips are plump and pink and they look soft right now, like he’d just recently applied chapstick. Fuck, the things that mouth could do to him, though. Tyler suddenly really wants to find out.

But then he remembers that he’s in the middle of a scene, forces his gaze to return to Dylan’s eyes instead of his lips. Except when he looks back up, it’s suddenly clear that this problem isn’t his alone, as Dylan’s eyes drop to his mouth and linger for a moment too.

The realization hits him so hard that he’s genuinely shocked that he doesn’t ruin the entire scene. It’s only Dylan’s obnoxious actions as Stiles that keeps him grounded in the moment, and when Tim calls “cut” this time, Tyler feels like he’s rooted to the spot.

Because holy shit, Dylan was staring at his mouth. Just like Tyler had been staring at his. And he’s not sure if it’s just wishful thinking, if Dylan was just channeling Stiles instead, or if it’s grounded in any sort of reality, but for a moment Tyler wonders if Dylan wanted to kiss him too. 

The thought stays with him the rest of the day, regardless.

~*~

Even though they’re all going back home for Christmas, Posey and Dylan are insistent on decorating the apartment for the holidays anyway.

“You realize we’re going to be leaving in, like, a week right?” Tyler asks, after he comes into the living room, only to find the two of them surrounded by boxes of Christmas decorations and a large fake, green pine tree.

“Yeah, but we’re hosting the Christmas party,” Posey says.

“And we can’t host a Christmas party without decorations,” Dylan adds, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Tyler feels his eyebrows rising. “I thought it was supposed to be a non-denominational winter holiday party?”

“Don’t worry, we talked to everyone coming,” Posey says, pulling a long string of colorful Christmas tree lights from a box. “There’s only three that don’t celebrate Christmas, but they said they didn’t mind a Christmas theme.”

“So we’re decorating,” Dylan says, as if that wasn’t already obvious.

Tyler shakes his head humorously, but he’s not opposed to the idea. He loves Christmas, including putting up a tree and decorating. It just seems like a lot of unnecessary work for such a short period of time.

“Do you really need to put up a tree though?”

Dylan’s head pops up from where it was buried in one of the boxes. “Why wouldn’t we put up a tree?”

“Because you plus alcohol plus a Christmas tree can only lead to dangerous things.”

“So little faith you have in me, Hoech.”

Tyler grins in spite of himself. “Okay. Prove me wrong then.”

“I will. I definitely will.”

***

The Totally Not-A-Christmas-Party Christmas Party -- which is what Dylan and Posey actually decide to call it -- has only just started when Tyler comes into the living room. The second he walks in, though, he wishes he hadn’t. Because true to Tyler’s belief, and contrary to Dylan’s own assertions, he finds Dylan in a compromising position with the tree.

Holland is doubled over laughing and Posey is egging him on like it’s normal to pretend hump a Christmas tree.

He just watches for a second, waiting for Dylan to notice him, and when he does, the way his expression falls into one of mild horror at being caught is almost worth walking in on this in the first place.

Dylan stops immediately, settling the tree upright and stepping away from it like it might burn him all of a sudden.

“So…” is all Tyler has to say before Dylan’s turning a brilliant shade of red.

“Looks like you lost that bet, bro,” Posey says to Dylan, picking up a couple fallen ornaments and putting them back on the tree.

Tyler stands there, arms crossed, and decides that the best way to convey his disapproval is to simply shake his head back and forth, since he knows it’ll drive Dylan up the wall to have him not say anything.

“I’m sorry, man. I’m so sorry,,” Dylan says eventually, sheepish and a little coy, and Tyler has to turn his back and walk away to keep Dylan from seeing the smile that wants to break out on his face.

***

Later on in the evening, after most people have either fallen asleep somewhere or headed home for the night, Tyler finds himself catching some air on the balcony. He’d had a bit too much to drink earlier, but is starting to feel more like himself again.

When the balcony door opens and then shuts again, Tyler doesn’t even turn around to see who it is. He’s about 99% sure he knows who’s joined him out here.

“So,” Dylan says, coming to stand beside him. “It was a pretty good party after all, don’t you think?”

Tyler nods. “Yeah, it was a lot of fun.”

“I’ve never seen Ian and JR so wasted in my life.” Dylan laughs to himself, takes a careful step closer to Tyler. “Didn’t even know guys that age could drink so much.”

“Just wait until they wake up and find out what Holland and Colton drew on their faces,” Tyler adds, and they both laugh at that.

It’s silent for a couple minutes, air chilly compared to what he’s used to, before, “You’re not mad at me about the tree thing, are you?”

Tyler barks out a surprised laugh, turns to face Dylan directly. It’s fairly dark out here, but the lights from inside the apartment grant them enough vision to see. “Of course not. Why would you even think that?”

Dylan glances down at the ground, scuffing his shoe on the floor. “I didn’t. Not really. But you looked so -- I don’t know -- disapproving? Just wanted to make sure.”

“I was doing that on purpose, to make a point. But I wasn’t actually angry with you.” _I could probably never be truly angry with you_ , is what he thinks, but doesn’t say.

“Okay, well good. I’m glad to hear it.” He pauses, smiling softly, and then, “Hug?”

It will be a cold day in hell when Tyler turns down a hug from Dylan. He nods, reaching for Dylan, and allows himself to be enveloped in Dylan’s warmth. And if they stay like that for a little longer than necessary, neither one mentions it.

~*~

They’ve wrapped up filming for the holidays, with three glorious weeks off before they need to be back on set again in the new year. All three of them are leaving tomorrow morning to head back to LA. Posey and Tyler are taking earlier flights and Dylan’s leaves later in the day. Tyler thinks that it’s kind of unfortunate that they all weren’t able to get on the same flight, but side trips and procrastination interfered with those plans.

Presently, Tyler’s lying beside Dylan in Dylan’s bed, one arm slung casually across his waist as they finish watching A Christmas Story on Tyler’s laptop.

“So, are you excited about going home?” Dylan asks after closing the laptop and settling back in the bed, lying on his side to face Tyler now. They’re no longer touching, but it’s a near thing.

“Yeah. I can’t wait to see my family. I think this is the longest I’ve ever been away from them. You?”

“Definitely. It’s been so long that I even miss my sister, if you can believe it.”

Tyler laughs at that, shakes his head. In that moment it hits him that he’s not going to see Dylan for at least a few days after tonight, likely not more than once or twice the whole time they’re in LA. And it’s not as if 3 weeks is all that long, but the idea of going back to waking up alone most of the time, of not seeing Dylan at all for several weeks suddenly feels like the worst thing in the world.

“Three weeks is a long time too,” Tyler says.

Dylan’s eyes drop down. “Yeah.” He swallows, and Tyler thinks that maybe he gets what Tyler isn’t saying. “It is.”

And then he’s meeting Tyler’s gaze again, eyes dark and expressive under his eyelashes, and Tyler realizes he’s never wanted to kiss Dylan more than he does right then. He reaches up, tentatively runs a hand through Dylan’s short hair, holding his breath while he waits for Dylan’s reaction. Dylan’s eyes slip shut and a soft sigh slips past his lips when Tyler rests his palm on the side of Dylan’s neck, stroking the underside of his cheek with his thumb. 

Tyler’s heart is pounding in his chest when Dylan opens his eyes again, whispers, “Hoech” into the space between them with a longing Tyler’s never heard from him before. And it’s all the permission he needs to close the gap and finally, _finally_ kiss Dylan.

Dylan gasps into the kiss when their lips first touch, and Tyler has a brief moment of panic that he’s read the whole situation wrong before Dylan presses into him, opening his mouth to Tyler and kissing him back. It starts sweet and gentle, filled with months of emotion and desire. Dylan’s hands reach up to cup Tyler’s face as his tongue slips past his lips, and then he’s rolling them so Dylan’s lying on top of Tyler. Tyler slips his hands under Dylan’s t-shirt at his waist, pressing his warm palms into Dylan’s skin as he deepens the kiss. Maybe it’s the emotional high he’s riding, or the fact that he’s a romantic at heart, but Tyler thinks he can’t remember having a more perfect first kiss in his life.

Dylan shifts above Tyler, settling further between his legs, and the movement causes their cocks to brush against each other through their jeans. And despite the layers of clothes between them, it feels amazing. Tyler’s already half-hard, his body getting more interested with every passing second, and he can feel against his thigh that Dylan’s in a similar state. He continues to run his hands up and down Dylan’s back, delighting in the way his body responds so enthusiastically to Tyler’s touch. Almost on instinct, Tyler thrusts his hips up again, seeking more friction, now that he’s had a taste.

“Fuck,” Dylan groans as he breaks the kiss, rolling his hips with purpose now.

Tyler presses his mouth to Dylan’s neck, leaving a string of kisses down Dylan’s throat as he continues to rock his hips into Tyler.

“Jesus Christ, Hoechlin.”

A loud moan fills the room, and Tyler legitimately has no idea who made the sound, just prays that no one else heard it. Maybe it came from both of them. All he knows is that they’re wearing way too many clothes, and he doesn’t want to come without at least touching Dylan’s dick first.

“D, you need to get this off,” Tyler says, tugging at Dylan’s shirt a little desperately.

It’s not all he wants to remove, but he can’t think much beyond _pleaseyeswantneed_.

Thankfully, Dylan seems to understand what he wants, like he somehow always does. He presses a hard kiss to Tyler’s mouth before pulling back and then climbing right off Tyler altogether. For a moment, he’s about to protest, when he sees that Dylan’s stripping out of not only his shirt, but his jeans and boxers and socks as well. It takes him a second to get with the picture and shed his own clothes too, but then Dylan’s moving back onto the bed, climbing back on top of Tyler, and then they’re naked and pressed together from shoulders to feet.

Tyler pulls Dylan into a searing kiss, relishing in the feel of Dylan on top of him, the way their cocks are rubbing together as they move against each other. He slips his hands down to cup Dylan’s butt cheeks, squeezing one in each hand and using the purchase to thrust up properly into Dylan.

“Fuck,” Tyler moans. “Fuck, wanna blow you so badly. I’ve wanted to for so long.”

“Yes. Fuck yes, oh my god blow me,” Dylan says, needy and breathless.

Grinning, Tyler pushes up and then sits, repositioning them so Dylan’s splayed out on his back across the bed. Tyler takes a moment to drink him in -- the moles that dance all the way down his body, the muscles of his stomach, the dark patch of hair that leads from his belly button down to his cock, and the way his dick sits flushed and red against his stomach, already leaking pre-come. It’s about the same thickness as his own, maybe even a bit longer, and Tyler feels himself mentally drooling at the fact that he’s about to have that cock in his mouth.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he tells Dylan, leaning over to kiss him.

“So are you. Fuck, you’re like a Greek god, it’s absolutely ridiculous,” Dylan says, eyes raking up and down his body, cheeks flushed a deep pink.

Tyler kisses him again, before turning his attention elsewhere. He takes his time exploring Dylan’s body with his mouth, trying to see what kinds of noises and sounds he can elicit from him. Dylan is amazingly responsive, letting Tyler know what he likes and how much he likes it simply from moans and little gasps of pleasure. Tyler doesn’t know if this is just how Dylan is, or if he’s particularly responsive to Tyler, but either way, he loves how it makes him feel.

By the time his exploration reaches its final destination, Dylan’s hips are arching up off the bed and he’s practically begging Tyler to _please just fucking do something I need to feel your mouth on me or I’m probably gonna die from sexual frustration_. At those words, he decides it’s time to get down to business. Tyler presses a kiss to the tip of Dylan’s cock, licking briefly across the slit, then sucks the head into his mouth as far as he can take it. Dylan’s hands reach out to tangle in Tyler’s hair, but he doesn’t pull, just seems to be grounding himself. It’s been awhile since he’s given head, but it seems to be coming back to him fairly quickly. It helps that Dylan reacts almost instantly to Tyler’s mouth on him. Grabbing onto the base of Dylan’s cock, Tyler bobs his head, trying to take more and more of his length at a time, until his lips hit his own hand wrapped around Dylan.

“Jesus fucking shit,” Dylan groans, hips thrusting ever so slightly into Tyler’s mouth. “I always -- oh god -- thought your mouth would be heavenly. But -- fuck don’t stop -- I never imagined how _good_ you’d be. Yeah, just like that Hoech.”

He keeps up a steady rhythm, sucking and humming and moving both his mouth and hand to bring Dylan off. Tyler listens and watches for Dylan’s reactions, adjusting his technique as best he can. Tyler can feel his own cock throbbing with how turned on he is and he wonders if some day he could come simply from watching Dylan fall apart at his hands. Dylan continues to fuck into his mouth, shallowly, but at times Tyler still presses a hand to his hip to keep him from moving too much. It’s a bit sloppy and probably overly enthusiastic on his part, but Tyler just can’t find it in himself to be concerned about that right now.

“God, I’m close, Hoech. Really -- fuck _yes_ \-- close.”

And then he feels Dylan tugging on his hair, trying to pull him off before he comes down Tyler’s throat. He knows what he should do, but for a brief moment he entertains the fantasy of what it might taste and feel like to keep his mouth on Dylan as he orgasms. It’s an incredibly appealing thought. Logic kicks in, though, and Tyler pulls off, giving himself just enough time to give Dylan’s dick four or five good strokes before he’s coming with a soft cry, shuddering through the aftershocks as Tyler continues to stroke him.

Once he’s come down from his post-orgasm high, Dylan lies still on the bed for about fifteen seconds before reaching up and tugging at Tyler’s neck. 

“Get down here,” he says and pulls Tyler into a sweet, but demanding kiss that he’s helpless to resist.

“Wanna blow you too,” Dylan says, “but I can’t. Gag reflex is too strong right now.”

“That’s okay,” Tyler says, smiling into another kiss.

“We’ll just have to practice so I can get better at it,” Dylan says, and Tyler’s heart leaps at the implication that this might not be the only time they do this.

Dylan’s hand reaches down and wraps around his dick then, and it’s quite possibly the greatest thing Tyler’s ever experienced. Dylan starts stroking him firm and fast with his long, magical fingers as they continue to kiss. It only takes a couple minutes before Tyler finds himself tipping over the edge, shuddering and coming all over Dylans hand and chest, his moans muffled by Dylan’s mouth still on his.

“Holy shit,” Tyler says, when they part. He knows he should get up and grab a cloth or something, but he suddenly can’t fathom doing anything but flopping down on Dylan’s chest and staying there forever. 

“We should probably clean up,” Dylan says after a moment.

Tyler nods reluctantly. “Yeah, I guess so. You got anything?”

Dylan reaches over the side of the bed and emerges a moment later with a t-shirt. “Good enough.”

Once most of the come has been wiped off on the t-shirt, Dylan settles down, lying on his back, and Tyler wants nothing more than to curl up with him properly. So, he does just that, resting his head on Dylan’s shoulder and slinging his arm low across Dylan’s stomach.. Dylan wraps his arms around Tyler, and Tyler decides then and there that he wants this for a very long time to come.

“Go to sleep, you need to be up early tomorrow,” Dylan says, pressing a kiss to the top of his head

Tyler knows they need to talk about what just happened at some point -- probably sooner rather than later -- but right now he only has the energy to sleep.

So he does.

***

Tyler is startled into wakefulness by someone pounding on the bedroom door.

“Hey, Hoechlin, are you in there? Wake up, we have to leave for the airport in less than an hour.”

The pounding continues and Tyler groans as he rolls off of Dylan and onto his back. For the briefest of moments, he starts to freak out about the fact that he’s clearly naked before he remembers what happened last night between him and Dylan. And as soon as it all comes flooding back, he feels the tips of his ears start to heat up involuntarily.

“Dylan, is Hoechlin in there with you? I’m going to come in if you don’t answer,” Posey continues to yell on the other side of the door, while Dylan slowly starts stirring beside him.

And that’s when Tyler begins to panic in earnest. Because if Posey comes into the room, he’s going to see them naked in bed together, and there’s just no way to explain it beyond the obvious. They haven’t had a chance to even talk about where things stand between them yet, let alone talk about what, when and if they’re going to tell everyone else.

“No! No, don’t. I’m up. I’ll be out in a minute,” Tyler calls, already climbing over Dylan and trying to find his clothes from where he threw them on the floor last night.

“What are you doing?” Dylan asks sleepily. He rolls onto his side to watch as Tyler attempts to locate his clothes.

“I’m trying to find my clothes,” he says.

“Don’t rush out or anything,” Dylan says, but he sounds off.

“You heard Posey. He said he was going to come in here.” Tyler manages to find both his boxer briefs and his jeans, and pulls them both on as quickly as he can.

“And that’s the only reason you’re leaving?”

Something about his tone bothers Tyler, but he doesn’t know what Dylan wants him to say. “We need to catch our flight in under an hour.”

Dylan rolls onto his back again. Tyler puts on his socks, then grabs his wallet off the dresser and puts it back in his pocket. He has to reach across Dylan on the bed to grab his laptop as well.

While he’s there, Tyler absently leans down to kiss Dylan on the cheek. But Dylan places a hand on his chest before he can get there, and averts his gaze. “You should get going. Don’t want to miss your flight.”

Tyler falters, a weight suddenly settling heavy in his gut. “I… yeah, I guess you’re right.”

He grabs a t-shirt from the floor which may not even be his and makes his way out of Dylan’s room. Despite looking back several times, Dylan refuses to meet his eyes again, and Tyler feels a little bit sick as he closes the door behind him.

~*~

Posey not-so-subtly sneaks glances at Tyler the entire cab ride to the airport, occasionally squinting at him like he knows something’s going on, but just isn’t sure what.

Thankfully he doesn’t ask, and Tyler’s too caught up thinking about what happened between him and Dylan last night and this morning to be able to effectively deflect anyway.

It starts off good, memories of his mouth on Dylan, hands gripping and grasping and exploring, the way he’d murmured encouragements and let out little moans and gasps in response to Tyler’s actions. It had been everything he’d been dreaming of for far too long, having Dylan in his arms, his to touch and explore and treasure. But then he thinks about the way Dylan had reacted in the morning after Posey came pounding at the door to wake them up, the way Dylan had ignored him, rebuffed his attempt at a kiss, like he regretted what they’d done the night before and just didn’t know how to say so. And the way Dylan hadn’t left his room after that, despite the fact that he’d been awake and knew he and Posey were leaving soon. He hadn’t even come out when Posey went to say bye. Honestly, the more Tyler thinks about it, the more he feels himself start to panic.

What the hell is wrong with him? Jesus Christ, what if he’d just ruined everything between him and Dylan because he couldn’t keep it in his pants? What if he’s just destroyed what could be one of the best relationships of his life before it even really had the chance to fully develop? Fuck, he’s an idiot of the highest caliber.

Somehow Tyler drifts through the airport, checking in for his flight and placing his luggage onto the turnbelt. He floats through security like he’s on autopilot, doesn’t even remember stopping to remove his jacket and empty out the pockets of his jeans. It isn’t until Posey’s hugging him goodbye (they’re on different flights, as Posey’s not headed straight for LA), that Tyler snaps back into reality again.

“Hey, have a great holiday with your family,” Posey says with a boyish grin.

“Thanks, you too.”

“You okay, Hoechlin? You’ve seemed kinda out of it all morning.”

 _You have no idea_ , Tyler thinks. “I’m just anxious to get home,” he says instead.

“Fair enough. Me too.” Posey claps him on the shoulder, squeezing it for a moment. “Anyway, have a good flight. Give me a shout if you’re not too busy.”

Tyler smiles and nods, giving Posey a final one-armed bro-hug before leaving him and heading for his own gate.

By the time he arrives at gate 32 -- after one bathroom run and one Starbucks run -- he’s worked himself up so much that he can actually hear his heart pounding in his ears. He’s flushed and sweaty and suddenly having a bit of a hard time breathing. Tyler briefly considers calling Dylan, just to check in on him, but he’s most likely trying to finish packing and get ready to leave the apartment himself. Plus, it’s probably better to talk to someone who _isn’t_ Dylan when he’s having a Dylan-related crisis.

Instead, he calls the only other person he can think of who might be able to calm him down.

“Yeah?”

Normally Tyler would be rolling his eyes at Colton’s lack of tact, but right now he’s appreciative of the fact that they can just skip past the social niceties and get straight to the point.

“I think I’ve made a huge mistake.”

“Okay, this sounds like it might require more than 5 minutes. Let me pull over, hold on.”

Tyler watches as a family of four settles down across from him, one girl and one boy, both probably under twelve. He turns his body away from them, hunching down into his coat to try and muffle the conversation he’s about to have.

“‘Kay, so what happened?”

“Dylan and I had sex last night. And I think he regrets it now.”

“Shit, really?”

“Why would I lie about that?”

“Right, sorry. So you guys had sex. Wow. I mean, I can’t honestly say I’m surprised. Only that it didn’t happen sooner, to be honest.”

Tyler frowns. “Are we really that obvious?”

“Well, you flirt a lot with each other. And you’re always all over each other with the hugging and constant touching. Also, you kind of get this dumbstruck look on your face whenever Dylan’s around, like you can’t believe he’s even real. It’s kinda pathetic, actually.”

“Great. So in addition to fucking everything up, everyone already knows about it.” Tyler sighs, runs a hand through his hair and wishes he could burrow deeper into his jacket.

“Well, I mean, I don’t think Posey’s caught on yet, and he lives with you guys. And Crystal hasn’t ever said anything to me. Though I’m pretty sure the adults at least suspect something. And Holland definitely knows.”

Normally Tyler would make fun of Colton for excluding their group from the ‘adults’ category, even though they’re technically all adults. But he’s not in the mood for arguing semantics at the moment.

“What should I do?”

“What do you mean, what should you do? Nothing. Go home, spend Christmas with your family, talk to Dylan when you get back. I think you’re overreacting a bit, Hoechlin.”

“You didn’t see his face this morning, though. It was so closed off.”

Colton sighs heavily through the line, and Tyler can almost see him rolling his eyes. Whatever. Other than Dylan, Colton’s his best friend on set, so he just has to deal with it.

“I don’t care. Dylan’s crazy about you. Maybe he didn’t like the sex?”

Tyler closes his eyes, can still see Dylan’s head thrown back in ecstasy, the sweat on his skin, can still hear his muffled moans and his ragged breathing. When he opens his eyes again, one of the kids is looking at him, and he glances down, feeling himself blush. No, there’s no doubt in Tyler’s mind that Dylan enjoyed the sex as much as he did.

“No. It was good. Awesome, actually. I don’t think that’s a problem.”

“Then stop freaking out. Worst case -- you had great sex with a coworker and things will be awkward for a few weeks after the holidays. But even if that’s what happens, you guys will work it out. You both like each other way too much not to.”

As much as he doesn’t like to admit it, he knows Colton is right. The worst case scenario is that things will be awkward and weird between him and Dylan for a while. It may also mean that there won’t be any more bed sharing, which is a thought that doesn’t sit well with Tyler at all, if he’s being honest. But all in all, it’s survivable. Even if it’s not what Tyler actually wants.

“Yeah, okay, fine. You’re right.”

“Aren’t I always though?”

Tyler snorts.

Overhead, someone starts announcing that his flight to LA will be boarding momentarily.

“On that note, my flight’s about to board, so I have to go. Thanks, though.”

“Any time, buddy.”

Tyler hangs up and stares down at the phone. No messages. Not that he was expecting any. He sighs and prepares for a long flight home.

~*~

Thankfully, being back home is actually the perfect distraction from Tyler’s relationship (or lack thereof) woes. He spends the first few days catching up with family and friends he hasn’t seen in close to 3 months, and it’s nice. It’s good. His old baseball buddies update him on what’s been going on with them, and insist on making him play a quick game even though it’s cold out. His brothers take him out for drinks and a round of golf, sharing ridiculous stories about their parents over the past few months that make Tyler laugh so hard he’s in tears. He has dinner with his sister and brother-in-law at a nice restaurant. It’s a good distraction, and for awhile, he’s able to forget about what happened between him and Dylan, at least for short periods of time.

That streak ends a lot quicker than he’d anticipated, however.

Tyler’s just arriving at his parents place with Tanner for Christmas day dinner when he hears a soft chime, indicating a new text message. It’s not unusual for him to get texts, but he’s heard from most of his family and friends today already, so it strikes Tyler as interesting, makes him wonder who it could be from. He greets his Mom and Dad with hugs, and passes the large stack of presents he’s carrying off to his sister and brother-in-law to take into the house. He makes a second trip back to the car with Tanner to grab the food they’d made, passing it off to his mom when they get back inside. 

As soon as his hands are free, Tyler pulls out his phone to see who texted him, and feels his heart jump in his chest when he sees that it’s from Dylan.

It simply reads: **Merry Christmas!** Tyler stares down at his phone, a million questions running through his mind all at once. Did Dylan send this to him specifically? Did he send out a group text that Tyler happened to be part of? Was it intentional, or was it an accident? Is he trying to start up a conversation, or is he just being polite? The lack of personal greeting in the text would imply that it wasn’t sent only to Tyler, but it’s too hard to gauge from two words alone.

Tyler bites his lip, debating what to do. He doesn’t want to ignore Dylan, even if the text was only sent to be polite, but he doesn’t want to seem overly eager either. After a moment of deliberation, he shoots back a simple:

**From: Tyler (4:15 pm)**  
 _Thanks! Merry Christmas to you, too :)_

Once the text is sent, Tyler locks his phone and pockets it. When he looks up again, Tanner is standing a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest and staring at him curiously.

“You okay, bro?” he asks.

Tyler nods. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, hopes it sounds convincing enough.

For a second it seems like Tanner is going to call him on it, but thankfully he doesn’t.

***

The next text arrives about half an hour later.

**From: Dylan (4:52 pm)**  
 _Hope you’re having a good time with your family. Do you have anything going on tomorrow?_

A flutter of hope passes through him at that, because why would he want to know what Tyler’s doing unless he wanted to to be a part of those plans? All the same, Tyler tries not to get ahead of himself.

**From: Tyler (4:56 pm)**  
 _Yeah, it’s good. Glad to be home. How are things going for you? And no, I don’t have any plans for tomorrow yet._

This time the response is almost instantaneous.

**From: Dylan (4:58 pm)**  
 _Do you want to go for coffee? We should probably talk._

And just like that, the hope flies away. Tyler’s not an idiot, he knows what those words mean, and they’re almost never good. Dylan wants to meet in public, probably to let Tyler down gently, tell him that what they did was a mistake and that they can’t be anything other than friends. Assuming Dylan still even wants to be friends. Fuck.

For a second Tyler feels like he might cry. The only thing that stops him is the fact that he’s about to sit down to Christmas dinner with his family, and there would be too many unnecessary questions if he started to cry in the middle of the living room. Instead, he excuses himself, then heads straight for the second floor bathroom. There, he splashes some cool water on his face and takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm his racing mind and body. It helps. A little. Tyler’s not a mind reader, and while the text feels ominous, he knows it’s not fair to necessarily assume the worst either.

**From: Tyler (5:11 pm)**  
 _Yeah, okay. Where do you want to go?_

It takes a few minutes, but they end up working out details for coffee tomorrow afternoon. By the end of it, Tyler feels like there’s a pit of anxiety sitting in his gut, but he can’t stay in the bathroom much longer without arousing suspicions. Plus, dinner’s about to start. So, Tyler takes one final deep breath, tries to push down his fears, and heads back downstairs.

He tries to enjoy the rest of the evening with his family, still manages to laugh and smile and at least act like nothing’s wrong. But unfortunately, this time, Tyler’s family isn’t enough to distract him.

~*~

Tyler gets to the restaurant about ten minutes early. It’s a quiet little coffee shop that’s located about halfway between their respective parents’ homes. It’s nice, larger than most coffee shops, but with much warmer decor. It’s still covered in festival holiday decorations, but they’re surprisingly classy. He tries not to think too much about why Dylan chose this particular place.

The next five minutes are spent staring at the menu, but nothing stands out to him, so eventually Tyler opts to just find a quiet corner of the restaurant to wait for Dylan instead. The minutes drag on, and at ten past the hour, Tyler starts to worry about Dylan standing him up. It doesn’t seem like something he’d do, but maybe it’s something Tyler deserves after potentially ruining their friendship. 

Before he has the chance to follow that line of thought, the bell jingles on the front door, and Tyler looks up to see Dylan walking in. He glances around, heading in Tyler’s direction when he spots him. Dylan looks good. Incredible, in fact. His cheeks are tinged pink, but he looks rested and happy. He’s wearing a dark green henley and a pair of tight, black jeans that Tyler’s never seen before, but they look amazing on him.

Dylan smiles softly at him when he reaches the table, a little tentative, but still genuine. “Hey. Sorry, I’m late. Traffic was bad.”

Tyler wants nothing more than to jump up and pull Dylan into a hug. It’s been less than a week, and yet it still feels like forever since he last touched him. But he doesn’t, because he doesn’t want to make things any more awkward than they already are.

Instead, Tyler smiles back, but doesn’t make an attempt to move as he says, “Don’t even worry about it.”

Dylan shuffles on his feet, looking a bit uncertain. “Did you order anything yet?”

“No.”

“Okay, I’ll grab us something then,” he says, and walks away before Tyler can protest. He’s honestly not sure if he can even eat or drink anything right now.

When Dylan gets back, he puts down a large cup of coffee in front of Tyler that smells faintly of peppermint.

“Thank you,” Tyler says, takes a small sip. It’s perfect. Normally it would make him happy to know that Dylan knows him well enough to pick up his coffee, but right now it sort of leaves an ache in his chest.

It’s quiet for a moment as they sip at their drinks, and Tyler feels his anxiety continue to grow. He isn’t sure how much longer he’ll be able to sit here in silence, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Thankfully, Dylan doesn’t drag things out by forcing small talk, just jumps straight into it instead.

“So, I know this is probably gonna be kind of awkward,” Dylan starts, glancing down before meeting Tyler’s gaze again, ”but I wanted to see you so we could talk about what happened between us that night. Before, uh, before we left for LA.”

Tyler nods, feels his throat close up. “Yeah. Okay, yeah, we probably should.”

“I just wanted to start off by telling you that you’re one of the coolest, nicest people I’ve ever met. You’re my best friend on set. Well, you and Posey. I think you’re hilarious and talented and gorgeous.” Dylan’s ears turn pink as he talks. Tyler would find it adorable, but it’s hard to concentrate beyond the inevitable _it’s not you, it’s me_ that he knows is coming.

“I feel stupidly grateful to have you in my life. Because seriously, you have so much experience and so much knowledge, both in life and especially in this business.” Dylan takes a deep breath, while Tyler holds his own. “You’re, like, one of my favourite people ever. And so I’m sorry. For ruining what we had. I know it might not happen right away, but I really hope we can still be friends. I want that so much.”

Tyler blinks. He stares at Dylan while his brain struggles to process what’s just said, but it’s not quite coming together like Dylan seems to think it should.

“Are you going to say anything?” Dylan prompts after a moment, a small frown starting to tug at the corners of his mouth. Dylan’s hands are curled around his coffee mug, body hunched in a way that makes him look younger and smaller than he ever has before.

“I’m not sure I get it. You’re saying I’m awesome, basically, but you’re sorry for having sex with me?”

“No, I’m sorry for ruining things between us,” Dylan clarifies.

There are several relevant things to pick apart in that statement, but Tyler grasps at the one that makes the least amount of sense to him.

“Wait, hold on, why do you think that _you_ ruined things between us?”

“Because I let my feelings for you get the better of me and took things too far.”

Tyler feels his heart stop, because _what?_ Surely Dylan can’t be saying what he thinks he’s saying. All the same, a genuine sense of hope starts to unfurl in his chest as he tries to make sense of this new information.

“Your feelings for me ruined things? You have romantic feelings for me?”

“I figured that much would’ve been obvious by now.”

Relief floods through Tyler, washing over him like a wave, and he feels like he might pass out from this emotional whiplash. “Oh my God,” he says. “Oh my _God_.”

“It’s not that shocking,” Dylan says. But clearly he doesn’t understand yet. Tyler needs to make him understand.

“No, you don’t get it. I thought _I’d_ ruined everything between us.”

“What... why? How?”

“Because I kissed you first. Because I couldn’t help my own feelings for you, and I pushed things too far. I thought you regretted it.”

For a moment, Dylan looks as stunned as Tyler feels, and he has to fight to tamp down the smile that’s threatening to overtake him.

“You have feelings for me too?” His voice goes a little shrill at the end.

“I think I might be in love with you,” Tyler admits, and whoa, he’d had no intention of confessing something that intense right now. They’re not even dating yet, and he’s already moved into admissions of love.

But Dylan’s grinning from ear to ear, and if he’s upset about the confession, there’s no evidence of it on his face.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” he says.

Tyler shakes his head. “I’m not. I wouldn’t.”

“Then what happened that--”

But Tyler thinks they’ve done enough talking for one day, and he lunges forward, capturing Dylan’s mouth mid-sentence. None of that matters any more anyway. It only takes a moment for Dylan to catch on before he adjusts the angle and starts kissing Tyler back in earnest, one of his hands coming up to tangle in Tyler’s hair while the other cups the side of his face. Tyler pours everything he has into the kiss, wanting Dylan to know just how much he means to Tyler, and he can feel Dylan’s racing heart beneath the palm that rests on his chest.

Eventually Tyler remembers that they’re still technically in public, and he manages to drag his lips away from Dylan, despite Dylan’s protests.

For a solid minute, they just stare at each other, grinning like loons. It’s ridiculous and wonderful and perfect all at the same time.

“So, are we really going to do this?” Tyler asks, because he needs to make sure they’re actually on the same page. No more miscommunications.

“I know I want to,” Dylan says, smiling shyly. “Do you?”

“I do. I definitely do. But it’s not going to be easy,” Tyler warns, because he doesn’t want to pretend there aren’t extra risks to them dating. “We’re co-workers who will very likely end up in the spotlight because of our careers. And two guys in a relationship. There’s just a lot of potential for extra stress that regular couples wouldn’t necessarily have to deal with.”

Dylan nods, like he gets it, and Tyler’s sure he’s done his own fair share of thinking about this, too. “Yeah, I know. And maybe I’m naive, but I kind of don’t care? I want to be with you, and I think you’re worth all the risks in the world, to be honest.”

“Then I guess we’re on the same page.”

Dylan’s grin is blinding. “I guess so.”

This time Dylan leans forward to press a kiss to Tyler’s lips. But when they pull apart, Tyler reaches for Dylan’s hand and tangles their fingers together, placing them on top of the table. They finish their first coffees, grab a second coffee and a snack, talking and chatting happily, and not once do they let go of each other’s hands.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to come flail with me on tumblr about Hobrien/Sterek, come find me at [accordingtomel](http://accordingtomel.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
